


Phantoms and Slayers

by winterda



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Rewrite, older story, sort of crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9113143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterda/pseuds/winterda
Summary: During “Anne”, Buffy is unsuccessful in escaping from the ‘hell’ dimension and instead finds herself dragged into a new adventure.





	1. Prologue: Collecting Wages

With his steps echoing off the dirty, water-damaged walls, Thom walked through the lower corridor of his Mistress’s home. From somewhere in the dark came the sharp sizzling sound of a slave being disciplined with a prod. It was followed by a painful scream which soon dampened into a pitiful groan. Things that he would rather not imagine scurried about in the shadows, either looking for dinner or avoiding becoming that for something else. He sneered as he stepped in something that soaked through his shoes and left his toes cold in a liquid that he hoped was just a bit of mud and nothing more. It was a vain hope, he suspected, particularly when the sharp scent continued to follow him on his journey. 

Thom hated being down here. He had worked hard to get to the position he now held, and it was below him to be in such a place. He was Gardulla’s personal servant and therefore should not have to soil himself by coming to the place where only the worst and most stubborn of the slaves must go.  


So why did he find himself wadding through such filth? Because of a damn Toydarian.

Watto, a junkyard owner, had won a bet between himself and Thom's Mistress a few days prior and had come to collect his winnings. However, he had not been satisfied with the two slaves that Gardulla had chosen to be his prize. A mother and son pair that Thom had only known in passing. Their lose was was of no real consequence to the standing of Mistress's grand house except for the embarrassment of losing to such a person as Watto. The dirty little Toydarian had taken one look at eight-year-old boy, however, and claimed him to be half a slave and not the full one that he had been promised in the wager. The wretched creature should have been gratefully that Mistress was even honoring the ridiculous bet, yet he had the gall to question her choice of slaves to give him.  


Such a disgusting creature.

In order to keep the knowledge that she had lost to the Toydarian to a minimum, Gardulla had agreed to let him have one other slave, but it would be of her choosing as well. He had not been happy about that – Thom had seen him the way he had been eyeing him – but agreed nonetheless. When she could come up with no one who was useless enough to pass off to Watto and fulfill the terms of the agreement, Thom had seen an opportunity. A killing of wamprats with one shot, if you will. In a manner that he knew would allow Watto to overhear, Thom had suggested that she give the Toydarian the girl the Gythons slave that Gardulla had bought a few weeks prior. Mistress had smiled – or, Thom thought she had, but one could never really tell when it came to Hutts – and agreed.

The Gythons were a strange race of creatures that lived on the far side of the planet and mined the mountains. It was rumored that they had hundreds of human slaves in their possession and had discovered a way to keep a never ending supply of them. Thom never put stock in such stories and didn’t care where they got their humans so long as they stayed away from him.  


The Gythons did not have the best reputation when it came to dealing with their slaves. In fact, from what he had seen, they made the Hutts look as harmless as a baby Jawa in comparison. Their methods, however, did work, and they produced some of the best and most subservient slaves. They asked no questions. They carried out orders without question and would do whatever you ordered them to do until you instructed otherwise. Thom would hate them on that principle alone if were not for the fact that they weren't actual threats to people such as him, who understood the albeit limited power that certain positions could afford. They cared nothing for it. Not anymore, at any rate. Not after what the Gythons did to them. No, these slaves were broken beyond repair and merely husks of people who had no desires of their own and lived only to carry out the wishes of their masters. Which is why they were so sought after.

When the Gythons had offered to sale Mistress one, she had jumped at the chance to own one of their slave girls. She should have been the crowning jewel of Gardulla's collection. It wasn’t until after the girl had arrived that Mistress learned why they had sold her. Apparently, the girl had lead a sort of rebellion against her former masters and had killed several of them and helped a dozen slaves escape. Why the Gythons hadn't just executed the trouble maker was a mystery. The only think Thom could think of was the fact that they were business men first, and she could still turn them a profit from a sale. Still, it would have been better if they had just rid the universe of her, if you asked his opinion of the matter. Thom was certain that if she hadn’t given Gardulla bragging rights about owning a real Gython slave, she would have had the girl terminated.  


Even after coming here, the girl's rebellious streak had not wavered. She had already tried twice to start a rebellion within the palace and kill a number of her betters. Thankfully, the novelty of her origins had finally worn off for his Mistress, and the girl would be Watto’s problem now.

Upon reaching her cell, Thom grabbed the controller that hang on a nearby wall. It went to the correctional cuffs and collar the girl was forced to wear now. Should she try to attack anyone, he could shock her with enough electricity to take down a banthas. Thom had wondered at the girl's parentage for her to have that much endurance against the pain that came from the cuffs and collar that they had to use it on full setting just to get her to comply. She looked human enough, but she was stronger and could endure more than what most humans could. Than what most species that he knew of could. Maybe that was why she had been such a problem. Gython slaves – the good ones – were fully human. The girl couldn't be. Not with what she could do. He doubted even a Jedi could withstand the shocks they gave her just to slow her down, let alone drop her.

Her cell door squeaked opened, which let some dull light into the otherwise black cell. The girl was sitting against the wall across from the door with her knees hugged to her chest and her head tilted downward. Her face was hidden behind her dirty, matted blonde hair, and the correctional collar reflected some of the light. The cuffs were hidden beneath her shirt's long sleeves, but Thom as certain they were still there and operation.  


He wouldn't have opened the door otherwise.

It was hard to believe that a girl, who was barely seventeen-standard-years-old, could be so dangerous. She was small and fragile-looking and appeared as if a good gust of wind would take her away. That is until one saw her eyes. Those hard orbs peering at you with a look that promised she would march through all nine levels of hell just for the chance to destroy you. She would raze the galaxy to the ground if given the chance, which Thom had no interest in doing.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Get up. You’re leaving.”

“Aww, but I was having so much fun,” she replied with a strange accent that he had never been able to pinpoint.“What, with the daily beatings and electroshock therapy and all, I was having a real blast.”  


She lifted her head to smile at him from behind her curtain of hair, and Thom as rather proud of himself for not backing away. His thumb, however, did brush against the controller's buttons. 

“Just get up and try to look presentable for your new master, slave,” Thom said.

He had no idea that someone could move as fast as she, but he found himself standing face-to-face with the now sneering girl. He was sure she would have had her hands around his neck were it not for the correctional cuffs. They restrained her from causing physical violence against anyone who carried the controller. Thank the gods for small favors, yes.

With a hiss, she said, “My name is Buffy. Buffy Summers. Got it?”

“Indeed,” Thom replied and then pressed the controller's button. The electrical charge that buzzed through the restraints sent the girl sprawling on the ground in convulsions. She tried to claw at her neck, but her fingers were curled in on themselves and were of little use. She kicked and choked for the duration of the shock and then grasped for breath once the electricity stopped. Thom watched impassively as she twisted at his feet, but did scrunch his nose at the smell of burnt flesh and hair and ozone that filled the already foul-smelling cell. 

Stupid girl. 

Well, she was that filthy Toydarian’s problem now. Thom hoped he enjoyed his winnings.


	2. Chapter One: No Place Like

Sitting on the small retaining wall, Buffy watched the first sun peek out over the horizon and begin to fill the dark alleyways and streets of Mos Espa with a warm light. The sand in and around the city began to glow as the hut-like homes windows started to light up one by one as the occupants began their morning routines. Off in the horizon, the faint outlines of mountains were starting to take shape, though they still were blending into the sky this time of day. By the time the second sun rose – which would be in an hour or so – the city and desert would be well lit and full of people. In a way, she could see how this place could almost be considered beautiful at dawn. 

Well, she could, if she didn’t know that this was the dry spot on hell’s ass. 

Sighing, Buffy resisted the urge to rub her face and instead picked at a loose bit of rock. The warm smell of a breakfast gruel filtered up from the living quarters next door and caused her her stomach grumble slightly, but she ignored it in favor of watching the horizon. She'd eat later. Right now, she had other things to worry about. 

Namely a wayward nine-year-old who was getting his butt kicked the minute he finally decided to wander in from wherever the hell he decided to stay the night.

“Any sign of Ani yet?”

Standing in the doorway of the small home they all shared, Shmi Skywalker pulled tightly on her shawl as she pressed her lips tightly together. Her face had always bore a look of worry since Buffy first meet her about a year ago, but this morning it was more deeply etched into her features than usual. Buffy knew her own frown probably matched it, but they had good reason for hurrying along those stupid wrinkles. 

Her Mom was right about kids doing that to you. Who knew.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Buffy said as she stood and brushed some sand from her pants. “You know Ani. He probably saw something shiny and just got stuck wherever he was.”

Shmi pressed her lips and shifted a little on her feet. Her gaze lifted from Buffy to the brightening horizon for a moment, and she said, “I hope you’re right.”

“About ADD Boy? Of course I am,” Buffy said.

Shmi tilted her head a little too far but didn’t ask what Buffy meant. She never did anymore. When Buffy had first come to live with them after Gardulla’s place, both Shmi and her son were always give Buffy blank looks when she spoke. Apparently, Giles was right and the pop culture speak that she liked to use really didn't translate well to others. She thought it was just because he was old, but people in Star Trek Reject Land didn't really get it either. Anakin was starting to catch on more and more, but everyone else just kind of stared at her like she speaking gibberish. 

Didn't mean she was going to stop, though.

“I’m just so worried about him,” Shmi replied, as she pulled her shawl tighter around herself. “He’s been acting…odd lately.”

“You think he’s acting odd now, wait a few years,” Buffy muttered. She thought she was quiet enough to only be heard by herself, but Shmi was a mom and moms had super hearing. Buffy didn't know what was worse. Her own mother's level look when she caught her saying something like that, or Shmi's exhausted, worried one. It wouldn't have been so bad, but Shmi was one of those people who were so nice and tried so hard to make you feel better about yourself that you hated to add any burden to them. Buffy wasn't exactly known for making things easier on people, but for this nice lady who took her in and feed her and made sure that she didn't die from exposure and treated her like a daughter when she didn't have too, she was willing to try.  


“Look, he’s a kid,” Buffy finally said. “They’re supposed to act all weird and stuff. It’s like normal or something.” 

Coming out to stand next to her, Shmi asked, “Did you?”

Ah, loaded questions. How did she _not_ miss you. 

Buffy gave a small laugh and said, “Me? Please. By the time I was fifteen, I was the queen of the weird.” 

Chewing a bit on the inside of her bottom lip, Buffy picked at the edge of her sleeve and tried not to picture the glare Giles would have given at her for that one. Willow would probably had a similar one on her face but would have also had a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, while Xander would have just smirked and added a stupid comment of his own. Cordy would have rolled her eyes, but Angel would – 

Okay, no more thoughts on that. 

Sighing, Shmi shook her head. 

“I do remember being young once, Buffy,” she said. “I just wish – Ani!”

Upon the cry of relief, Buffy's attention snapped to the land speeder that was racing up the dirt path that lead to their home. A small boy's head barely above the dash to allow him to see where he was going, but he maneuvered the speeder gracefully around bits of trash and people heading out of their jobs with ease. Watching a kid drive what was essentially a car should have been weird, but she saw aliens much smaller and weirder than him fly off into on a daily basis. This was at least a little closer to normal than that. 

Behind the speeder, the group of droids Watto had sent Anakin to go buy off some Jawas the day before marched awkwardly along. After all the trouble that they had put them through, Buffy had least expected them to be of higher quality, but these looked like they were one step away from the trash compactor. At best Watto would get only a couple of credits for them. It was more likely that he was going to just scrap them for parts, which meant that she and Anakin would have to disassemble them. 

What fun.

As Ani came to a stop outside of their home, Shmi ran to greet him. He barely had time to brace himself for the tight hug before she was already pulling out of it but still holding him by the shoulders. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick about you.”

Ani found a spot somewhere around his mother's feet pretty interesting and said to it, “Sorry, Mom.”

“Sorry? That’s all you have to say?” she asked.

Anakin kicked a small pile of dirt and gave her a sheepish grin.

“We just kind of got…distracted.”

Shmi's eyes narrowed as she stood to her full height and placed her hands on her hips. Uh-oh. Mom hips. That's never good.

“You were talking with those pilots again,” Shmi said with a sharp frown. “Ani, how many times do I have to tell you to not go near those men? They could be dangerous.” 

Anakin at least had the good grace to look sheepish. He opened his mouth as if he were going to try to defend himself but then thought better of it. Several times. When he couldn't seem to think of anything to say, he turned those kicked puppy-dog eyes on Buffy to plead for help.

Buffy raised her own eyebrow in response and crossed her arms. Oh, like that was going to work. She was perfectly happy to let him deal with his mom on his own for a little while.  


The anger, however, melted out of Shmi almost as soon quickly as it rose and caused her to give a small sigh. Reaching over, Shmi brushed some of his hair out of his face and then held her hand against his cheek. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” she said softly.

If it was possible, Ani dropped his head even lower than before. “I'm sorry, Mom.”

Something ached in Buffy's chest at the sight as the faint scent of Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds and not-so-expensive-anymore hand cream seem to touch her own cheek. Okay, maybe that's enough suffering for one day.

With a small sniff and shift of her feet, Buffy said, “Well, he’s in one piece, so no big, right?” 

She pointedly ignored the worry frown that Shmi turned her away before Buffy reached over and gave Anakin a small push towards their home.

“Come on, Late Boy,” she said. “Watto’s going to be even more than his usual bright ball of sunshine all day, so you better eat up.” 

He gave her a grateful smile once they were inside but was caught off guard when she gave him a little shove so that he would turn around and face her. 

“Okay, so spill.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, which totally deserved the eye roll she gave back. 

“Look, I know you like to talk to those old guys, but you wouldn't have stayed out all night worrying your mom because of it,” Buffy said. “So what happened?”

Shifting on his feet, Ani placed his hands behind his back. Uh-huh. Working his way up to it. So what did the little squirt do? 

“I found a Tuscan Raider.”

Buffy froze. She'd been in this stupid dimension long enough to know that was not a good phrase. 

“Please tell me that’s some kind of new ship,” she said with the vain hope that someone had just decided to go the whole Viper and Jaguar naming route like they did with cars back home.

Apparently, a spot somewhere around Buffy's ankle was now very interesting.

“Anakin!”

“He was hurt,” he said quickly. “He must off fallen off the cliff side in the canyon and got buried under some rocks. I had to help him. He would have died if I didn’t.”

Again, those puppy-dog eyes blinked up at her. Buffy had never meet anyone with as expressive eyes as Anakin had. She could practically read what was going through his head. He had to help. He couldn't help himself. Something was hurt, and he thought he could do something about it. She'd understand. She was the one who showed him how to do a lot of stuff to help other people, so why should she be mad now? 

The urge to pinch the bridge of her nose was far greater than Buffy expected it to be, but she settled for shaking her head and sighing.

“I swear, Ani,” she said. “Sometimes, you’re too good for your own good.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Buffy stood at the counter with her chin resting on her palm as she spun a curved piece of metal like a coin. Business was slow that day. Even with the new droids, no more than a handful of people had come into the little junk shop in the middle of Mos Espa. 

They were too small for anyone to really notice. At least that was what Watto believed. He thought that if they were larger like some other stores than business would be much better. Buffy just kept herself from snorting at that. The reason business was so lousy was because the owner was an overgrown hairless rat with a personality of a grapefruit, and no one wanted to deal with him. If he wanted business to pick up, he should just leave the store for her and Ani to run. Not that that would happen.

“What are you doing?” 

Said overgrown hairless rat was light on the flap of his wings, though.

With an ugly sneer on lips, Watto hovering in the air before her. His toothpick arms were crossed in what he probably thought was intimidating but just made Buffy tap her finger against the counter a couple of times. She'd seen way scarier things them him before riding in some lady's purse and yapping at anyone who walked by too closely for their liking. They about made the same sound as him, too.

What did catch her attention, however, was the controller to her cuffs and collar hung from teasingly from his belt. She fingers itched to reach out and grab it, but the light buzz of electricity biting at her wrist and neck from just the thought kept them in place. She'd preferred not to spend the rest of the day twitching, thank you, so she was careful to keep her hands on the counter. Maybe someday she'd have enough to chance it again but not today.

As if sensing her thoughts, Watto's eyes drifted to her neck, which caused Buffy pulled at the long scarf that was wrapped around it and her head. It was doing double duty by both holding back her hair and covering the correctional collar. Watto made her wear it at all the time, but especially when she was working the counter in the shop. Men liked doing business with her, but some were way wearier about doing so when they caught sight of the smooth metal band around her neck. Those who weren't put off by it, well, they were by the time she was through with them. Those days, the twitch was completely worth it. 

“Nothing,” Buffy finally said as she grabbed the scrap metal she'd been spinning before it completely its last turn. 

“Well, get to doing something,” Watto replied. “Business is slow enough without your laziness, girl.”

Buffy started to retort but stopped when she felt something tug at the back of her mind. Someone very different was nearby. Not that sensing 'different' kind of people around here was anything new. Ever since she had arrived in this fun, 'not hell' dimension, her slayer senses had gone haywire on nearly a daily basis. Every alien and most humans she came across got at least a little twitch or something. 

It was actually so bad that it had taken Buffy several weeks to figure out that it was Anakin who sending the strongest slayer tingles her way. He was powerful with something, but it was wild and unfocused and put her slayer-self a little on edge. It wasn't dark like a vampire or demon would be, but she couldn't swear that it was good because it didn't feel like Kendra had felt around her either. This wasn't kindred, but it was something that demanded her attention.

A lot like how one of the members of the group who just walked into the shop felt. 

They were one of the weirdest groups Buffy had ever seen come in together. 

One was a tall amphibian-like creature that looked like the lovechild of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck on acid. (Even though she wasn’t there, Buffy could almost feel Willow shutter. Way to frog like for her friend to handle.) The other two were just normal looking humans: a tall, older man and a teenage girl. Neither looked all that impressed with the shop, but the man did a better job of hiding his disdain than she did.

The frog-bunny-duck thing walked awkwardly through the shop and looked at the different objects with a great deal of curiosity. When he reached to touch something, the older man cleared his throat as a warning for it to stop. The man had on a poncho that reminded Buffy of Clint Eastwood in that movie that Xander use to like to watch where some of the actors lip movements didn't quite match what they said. The only thing missing was the hat. 

The other human member of their party frowned in their general direction before going back to examining some parts on the far wall. She was only a few years younger than Buffy herself but held herself like someone who was twice her age and was never allowed to slouch their entire life. She might have been dressed like a peasant, but she held herself with too pride and grace. She ruled her world. Others were just allowed to live in it. 

She would have made a great Cordette back home.

The final member of the party was droid that looked like a rolling trashcan. Its top swirled and various lights flashed as he beeped and rolled around the store. It stopped in front of one of the new droids and said something to it, but the shop droid was either too stupid to answer or didn't speak the same language.

Now that the tall guy was standing near the counter, Buffy could tell he was the one she was getting that sense of power from. Her hand tightened a little around the curve of scrap metal while her eyes narrowed slightly as she tracked his movements. 

After pulling out some not so imaginary wrinkles from his clothes (or skin, Buffy wasn't really sure which), Watto fluttered over to the group quicker than his old body should have been able to move. Then, money was involved, and that somehow gave the Toydrarian the swiftness and grace of a leopard – or a really fat housecat about to be feed. Poncho Man blinked when Watto suddenly appeared hovering in his face and demanding what they wanted in Huttese. 

“Just can’t learn ‘Can I help you?’ Can you?” Buffy muttered.

Poncho Man was at least able to keep his contempt and annoyance at Watto well-hidden behind a kind smile. It was a skill most people around here lacked. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a device which projected a 3D imagine of a ship. It was sleek and looked faster and more expensive than the majority of the ship in all of Mos Espa.  


Probably the Cordette's birthday present. 

“I need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian,” Poncho Man said.

A toothy smile rose behind Watto’s trunk-like nose as he replied, “Ah, yes! Nubian! We have lots of that.”

Buffy frowned. Nubian? She knew that a crate of parts that Watto had won during the last Podrace had some Nubian parts. She and Ani spent the better part of a day sorting through that junk for stuff that was usable and parts that were worth more as scraps. Anakin had done his best to help her tell the difference, but it just got to the point where it was easier to let him sort it himself, while she moved the parts from one pile or another. She also remembered that Ani had been excited because there had been some Nubian parts in it, but loads?

“Hardly,” she said under her breath.

Watto apparently had mom hearing too and glared at her. His hand hovered closer to the controller, which caused Buffy to press her lips tightly shut. 

She could feel Poncho Man’s eyes on her as well, but he wasn’t looking at her like Watto or how most human men did. It felt more like he wanted to see through her. Like he thought she had something locked tight, and if he tried hard enough, he could find it. Buffy was sure to make herself not fidget under his gave and resisted the urge to level him with her own look. Watto had already been itching for a reason to use his “bad Buffy” controller. She really didn't need to give him an actual reason to.

Poncho Man must have found what he was looking for because he switched his attention back to Watto and asked, “Can you help us or not?”

“Can you pay me or not – that’s the question!” Watto replied matter-of-factly. “What kinda junk are you after, farmer?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. The guy had a Nubian. She didn't know a lot about ships, but she knew that those weren't exactly the Ford trucks of the universe. Anyone with half a brain would know that a farmer wouldn't use one of those. 

Of course, anyone with less than half a brain would also know that these people weren't farmers, which was exactly why Watto was completely clueless to that fact.

Turning off the device, Poncho Man said, “My droid has a readout of what I need.”

Watto studied the droid for a moment before he turned to the salvage yard door and yelled in Huttese for Anakin. Buffy didn't really know Huttese beyond a couple of phrases that Watto liked to use, but she knew that word well enough. Shmi would have turned red hearing it.

Buffy the metal scrap in her hand pinched slightly. 

Ani ran into the store with a small trail of dust following behind him. He gave her a small smile before hurrying over to Watto and the customer. Watto spun around and raised his hand slightly as if he were about to strike Anakin. The small piece of metal Buffy crumpled like paper in her hands as she watched. If he did strike him, there wasn't anything she could do about it beyond fantasizing of what she could do if she ever got her hands on that controller. 

She never realized how creative she actually was before all this started. 

Like he had with Buffy, Poncho Man was giving Ani a strange look, but he did a much better job at hiding curiosity at him than he had with her.

“What took you so long?” Watto barked.

Anakin apologized in Huttese and then said, “I was cleaning out the bin like you-.”

Shouting at him to shut up, Watto then said in Basic, “Never mind the bin! Watch the store! I’ve got selling to do!”

He turned his angry glare to Buffy before he used the same Hutt phrase to call her over. There was only one reason why he'd want to take her and leave Anakin in the shop, so apparently Buffy was going to get to do some heavy lifting. Well, Giles would be proud to know all that time they spent training were finally paying off. 

Placing the piece of bent metal back on the counter, she took her time walking over to him and gave him an overly toothy smile. Watto sneered back, which showed how yellow his own teeth really were, and then turned back to Poncho Man. 

“So, let me take you out back,” Watto said easily. “You’ll soon find what you need.”

Flying through the scrape yard door, Watto barked for Buffy to follow. She rolled her eyes but marched after him and out into the hot, twin suns like the good little slave she was supposed to be. She flinched as the brightness overwhelmed her and squinted out from beneath the hand she had pressed against her forehead at the junk and melt that was thrown in seemingly random piles. There was a method to this madness, and there was a reason why certain things were put into certain heaps. Ani swore to that, anyway. Buffy herself had her doubts since, as far as she could tell, Ani's filing system didn't resemble anything close to logic. It mainly just seemed to be a giant maze of scraps and parts, which made it easy for her flying boss to disappear into since he wasn't exactly restricted just to the pathways around the yard like she was. 

Really, how could something that fat move that fast and quietly? 

“He’s over there, I believe,” Poncho Man said as he walked up from behind her. He pointed towards a large heap that formed the turn of a blind corner which lead to another section of the scrapyard. A harsh shadow bobbed in the dirt from just on the other side of it as if something was hoovering in the air waiting impatiently for something.  


Buffy turned slightly towards Poncho Man and began to open her mouth with a flash reflected light ran across his face. His eyes snapped to her wrist about the same time that hers did, and both saw the cold metal band peeking out from beneath her sleeve. She dropped her hand and pulled the fabric down while she cleared her throat a little. 

“Ah, thanks,” she said as she hurried off towards waiting shadow. 

That wasn't good. He saw her cuffs. If he said something to Watto, it could mean she might be getting a bit sparkly after they leave. Buffy really didn't care so much for herself. Being the slayer meant she had a higher pain tolerance than normal, so she could handle a few minutes of near unbearable pain followed by hours of twitching. It would upset Ani and Shmi, though, and that wasn't really something she wanted to do if she could help it.

That permanent sneer that always greeted her wasn't any less lovely in the Tatooine afternoon light, but it lessened a bit when it turned to Poncho Man who followed behind her.

“Let’s have the list then, eh,” Watto said as he held out his three-fingered hand.

Turning to the droid that had trailed behind him like a puppy, Poncho Man retrieved a chip from it and handed it over to Watto. As he reached for his for his portable memory bank, Poncho Man must have noticed her controller. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he turned towards her, but Buffy kept her focus straight ahead on the junk pile. 

Watto, of course, didn't notice anything. When it came to money, he could hear a credit being dropped in the dirt during a sandstorm; but anything else wasn't worth his attention.

“Ah, here it is. A T-14 hyperdrive generator!” Watto said as he scrolled through his p.m.b. “You’re in luck. I’m the only one hereabouts who has one.” 

Buffy sniffed to stop a snort. Watto knew that just last week that D’Arc had one (and Ani would be so proud of her for remembering that). If Poncho Man went to him, he could probably get for a whole hell of a lot cheaper than what Watto would try to swindle out of him. 

Watto waved his hand haphazardly in the air and said, “But you might as well buy a new ship. It would be cheaper.” 

_See_ , Buffy thought. 

“Speaking of which,” Watto went on, “how’re you going to pay for all this, farmer?”

“I have twenty thousand Republic dataries to put towards-.”

Unlike Bufy, Watto didn't hold by his own snort before he snapped, “Republic credits? Republic credits are no good out here! How much are Republic credits worth here, girl?” 

“Nothing,” Buffy replied.

One of the first things that Watto drilled into her head after he realized how clueless she was about this dimension was what to accept from a customer as payment and what not to. The credits that the locals used was the go-to stuff, but there were a few other types that Watto was okay with accepting. Republican credits, though? That was a big not happening. Everyone around here knew that, so why was Poncho Man trying to pass them off on them?

“See. Even she knows that, and she knows nothing!” Watto said as he shut off his portable memory bank. “I need something better than that, something of value.” 

Poncho Man shook his head and said, “I don’t have anything else.” Then, in the strangest barging act that Buffy had ever seen, he raised his hand and passed it casually in front of Watto’s face. “But credits will do fine.”

“No, they won’t!” Watto snapped.

The man frowned and then tried again. “Credits will do fine.”

The sneer Watto shot at him was the one he usually reserved for Buffy or Anakin whenever they did something that he didn’t like, like breathe in his direction. 

“No, they won’t!” he hissed. “What do you think you’re doing, waving your hand around like that? You think you’re some kinda Jedi?” 

Poncho Man tensed a little at the accusation, which caused Buffy to frown. What? Was a Jedi some kind of alien that Anakin hadn't told her about yet? Like some kind of a giant, bearded, poncho-loving kind?

Laughing, Watto said, “I’m a Toydarian! Mind tricks don’t work on me – only money! No money, no parts, no deal! And no one else has a T-14 hyperdrive generator, I can promise you that!” 

With a tight frown, Poncho Man turned and left with his little droid following close behind. Buffy crossed her arms as she watched them disappear into the shadowy entrance of the shop. Ani's voice drifted out to them, and Buffy could hear the disappointed tone as he told them goodbye. Something told her that they'd be back, though. She just wasn't sure if it'd be for the stellar deal that Watto was offering for the ship parts or something else all together.

Anakin was still watching the door when Buffy and Watto walked in from the back. 

“Outlanders!” Watto said as he hoovered just beyond Ani and stared at the door the group had left through earlier. “They think because we live so far from everything, we know nothing!” 

Sighing, Anakin replied, “They seemed nice enough to me.”

Buffy did really try to hide her smile. She knew that look. She had had it many times before in her life. Ani had a crush. Probably on that girl who had been with Poncho Man. At least, Buffy hoped it was on the girl. She was pretty open-minded about a lot of stuff, but she would have to have a talk with Ani if it was on that amphibian thing.

Still grinning, Buffy walked over to him and nudged Anakin a little with her hip. There was enough force to cause him to stumble before he frowned up at her, which just caused Buffy to laugh. 

Ignoring the two, Watto snorted and said, “Clean up this mess, the both of you! Then you can go home!”

Anakin cheered to himself and rushed towards as small mess of parts that had been thrown onto the floor sometime after she had gone out to the scrapyard. Buffy reached down and picked a few pieces near her, but her attention kept turning towards the main entrance. 

The promise of something whispered to her and hung heavy in the air. That wasn't really anything new. Buffy got that feeling the first time she saw a tweed-loving Englishman sitting on the steps outside of her high school. She had it again when her mom told her about looking at an art gallery in a only one coffee shop that isn't a Starbucks, coast town called Sunnydale. It had practically screamed at her on her seventeenth birthday (God, she wished she would have listened, then). So, yeah, the feeling wasn't anything new, so she wasn't worried about that.  


What did worry her was whether whatever was coming was a good thing or a bad, bad thing. With her life, either way was likely – which, if you thought about that, really said a lot about what she had to deal with.

Someone tugging the parts out of her hands caused Buffy to blink. Anakin frowned up at her and shifted a little on his feet. 

“Buffy?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

She replied, “Right as rain, or sandstorm here, I guess.” 

With a quick glance around the now cleaned shop, Buffy grabbed his shoulders and pushed him towards the door.

“Now let's get out of here before Watto realizes there's still like two hours of daylight left, so there still might be some people left to swindle.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I wrote this back when Episode III came out, and it's been posted on both Twisting the Hellmouth (the completed version) and FF.net (incomplete). I thought I'd do some editing and put it on here. It's a pretty basic premise, but I had fun writing it. Who knows, maybe it'll inspire me enough that I'll actually get around to finishing the sequel to it. I did change quite a bit of it in terms of the portal stuff from the Buffy episode “Anne”. It shouldn't be a problem to keep up with it, but just giving you the heads up before you start to read it. Also, when this was written, a lot of stuff hadn't come out (like anything from the Clone Wars, except for the short animated version and some of the comic books), so there's a lot that's not canon compliant things in here with what we know now about the Jedi and Palpatine and so forth. So, just imagine this as an AU like it is.


End file.
